
Class 
Book 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



The Old and 

the New 



TWO SERMONS 

Preached in St. Paul's Church 

Philadelphia 

The Last Sunday of 1902 

and 

The First Sunday of 1903 



* 



By J. R. Miller, D. D. 



a 



philadelphia : 
Henry Altemus Company 



-A15" 



THE LISRARY OF 
CONCaRESS, 

Two Copies Rec&ivoc 

SEP 26 1903 

S. Copyright Entry 

CLASS fl_ XXc No ! 

£>7$ $3 



Copyright, 1 903, by Henry Altemus 



: • . . 



BreaKing Away from Our Past 






Forgetting those things which are be hind. —Phil. 3 : 13 



w 



E have here St. Paul's plan of life — prog- 
ress by forgetting, by letting go, the 
things that are past. "Forgetting the 
things which are behind, and stretching forward 
to the things which are before, I press on toward 
the goal." This is such a wise theory of life that 
we may profitably study it a few minutes this 
morning. 

"Forgetting the things which are behind." 
There are some things we would like to forget. 
Probably most of us have done things this year 
we would give much to leave behind, to blot out 
from memory, to cut altogether loose from, to 
bury in oblivion. We may have spoken words 
which we would eagerly recall — words which 
hurt tender hearts, or which left a stain where 
they fell, or which misdirected a trusting life. 
Or it may have been a silence over which we 
grieve — the word that was not spoken. 
3 



4 The Old and The New 

"Lost for want of a word — 

A word that you might have spoken; 
Who knows what eyes may be dim, 

Or what hearts may be aching and broken? 
So, scatter beside all waters, 

Nor sicken at hope deferred; 
Let never a soul by thy dumbness 

Be lost for want of a word." 

We may have done things we would gladly 
forget. Even when sins are forgiven they leave 
their marks. They stay in the memory. Look- 
ing back on the year, we must know of things in 
our lives we wish we might forget, but cannot. 
Some one tells of a picture of a man in agony, 
on his knees, praying that God would turn back 
the hands on the dial of time, and give him again 
hours that were past. "O God!" he cried, "turn 
back thy universe and give me yesterday." 
But the prayer could not be granted. Even 
God cannot turn back the hands of the clock, 
that we may have any day over again. But one 
thing God will do — we may bring to him all the 
mistakes, the follies, the sins, and he will forgive 
us, and then use even these poor broken things 
for good. Some traveler tells of finding some- 
where beside the sea, at a place where many 
ships were dashed upon the rocks, a beautiful 
house built altogether of pieces of wreckage 



The Old and The New 5 

gathered from the shore. That is about the best 
many of us can do. We have little else to bring 
to God but wreckage — disobediences, broken 
commandments, mistakes, sins. Yet it is a 
wonderful thought that even with such materials, 
if we are truly penitent and repentant, our Master 
will work, helping us to build beauty in our lives. 
Sins forgiven become lessons for us. Out of a 
past full of failures we may make a future full of 
strength and beauty — through the grace of 
Christ. We cannot forget our sins, but we may 
be wiser and better for them. 

Then there are things in our lives which we 
would not want to forget. George Eliot wrote, 
"I desire no future that will break the ties of the 
past." Memory is a wonderful treasure house. 
It keeps for us in store the sweet things, the joys, 
the happy experiences, of all our days, so that 
when we will we may live them over again. 
There are sacred hours and holy days in every 
good life, the remembrance of which it would be 
sacrilege to have blotted out. We would not 
forget the sweet friendships which have woven 
their threads of gold and silver into this year's 
web. We would not forget the lessons we have 
learned, the beautiful things we have seen, the 
blessings that have come into our lives. Every- 



6 The Old and The New 

one has red-letter days that stand out in the 
calendar as days never to be forgotten. 

Paul does not mean that he absolutely forgot 
everything in the past. He never forgot the days 
when he was a persecutor — the memory of his 
violent opposition to Christ in years past stirred 
him to the last to more earnest and hearty devo- 
tion to his Redeemer, to burn out the old 
shame in flames of love and service. He never 
forgot his friends. His epistles are full of grate- 
ful mentions of those who in days gone had 
shown him kindness. He never forgot the good- 
ness of God. His life was one long anthem of 
joy. Paul does not mean any such forgetting as 
this. 

Yet there is a forgetting which is part of every 
one's duty. "Forgetting the things which are 
behind." We are about at the ending of the 
year. There are many things that we should not 
carry out of this old year into a new. When a 
family is removing from one house to another, 
especially if they have been quite a while in the 
old house, there are likely to be many things that 
they would better leave behind, either having an 
auction or a bonfire. There is rubbish in most of 
our lives that we should get rid of before we 
enter the New Year's paths. 



The Old and The New 7 

A friend of mine has written a little book which 
she calls "The Evolution of a Girl's Ideal." The 
text of the book is a sentence which the author 
says she found somewhere a good while ago — 
'The way of life is wonderful; it is by abandon- 
ment." Most people believe that the way of life 
is by acquisition, by getting things, by adding to 
their possessions. The way to grow rich is to 
keep all you have and continue to add to your 
wealth — saving and accumulating. By and by, 
if we are wise, we learn that it is by abandonment, 
by giving up things, by leaving things behind, 
by growing away from things and ideals, that we 
really grow. 

So Miss Laughlin tells us the story of the girl's 
life in illustration of her text: "The way of life 
is wonderful; it is by abandonment." The little 
girl lives in her dolls for a while. Then she gives 
up her dolls for her school-girl friendships. For 
a time these fill her life. If she could not see 
these friends daily, two or three times a day, life 
was blank, empty, intolerable. Then "affairs of 
the heart come in" — before the girl is ten. In 
two or three years the boys are supplanted by 
clothes — these again by a more serious love 
affair, with its dreams, which, too, collapse and 
fall to nothing, by and by. So the story goes on 



8 The Old and The New 

to the end — one hope after another cherished, 
then given up and left behind, always for some- 
thing better and more substantial. Thus was 
the truth of the writer's text illustrated and 
proved — "The way of life is wonderful; it is by 
abandonment." 

St. Paul states the same truth when he says, 
"When that which is perfect is come, that which 
is in part shall be done away. When I was a 
child, I spake as a child, I felt as a child, I 
thought as a child; now that I am become a man, 
I have put away childish things." Childhood is 
very sweet and beautiful, but who would want to 
stay a child always? 

Thus we begin to catch hints of the meaning 
of the apostle when he says he forgets things 
behind and presses on to things before. It is 
the law of life. The blossom is not lost when it 
is left behind by the coming of the fruit. The 
boy is not sorry when he feels himself growing 
into manhood. He seems to be leaving much 
behind, much that is winning and attractive. 
Perhaps his mother grieves as she sees him lose 
one by one the things she has always liked — his 
curls, his boyish ways, his delicate features — the 
qualities that kept him a child, and taking on 
elements of strength, the marks of manhood. 



The Old and The New 9 

But if he remained always a boy, a child with 
curls and dainty tastes, what a pitiful failure 
his life would be! He can press to the goal of 
perfection only by putting away, leaving behind, 
passing by, the sweetness, the simplicity, the in- 
nocence of boyhood. 

The same principle runs all through life. Man- 
hood is stern, strong, and heroic. It would seem 
that childhood is more beautiful. But who re- 
grets passing to man's ruggedness and man's 
hard tasks? Nazareth was easier for Jesus than 
what came after; but when he left the carpenter 
shop and went to the Jordan to be baptized, 
thence to the wilderness to be tried, and thence 
started on the way to his cross — do you think he 
was sorry? 

"That evening, when the Carpenter swept out 

The fragrant shavings from the workshop floor, 
And placed the tools in order, and shut to, 

And barred, for the last time, the humble door, 
And going on his way to save the world, 
Turned from the lab'rer's lot for evermore, 
I wonder — was he glad? 

"That morning when the Carpenter walked forth 

From Joseph's doorway in the glimmering light, 
And bade his holy mother long farewell, 
And, through the rose-shot skies with dawning 
bright, 



io The Old and The New 

Saw glooming the dark shadows of the Cross, 
Yet, seeing, set his feet toward Calvary's height, 
I wonder — was he sad? 

"Ah! when the Carpenter went on his way, 

He thought not for himself of good or ill; 
One was his path, through shop or thronging men 
Craving his help, e'en to the cross-crowned hill, 
In toiling, healing, teaching, suffering, all 
His joy, his life, to do his Father's will, 
And earth and heaven are glad." 

He forgot the easy, pleasant things which were 
behind, and with joy entered upon the harder 
way before him, as he pressed toward the goal. 
A word in the Hebrews tells us that for the joy 
set before him Jesus endured the cross, despising 
the shame. So every true and worthy life re- 
joices to go on to where the burdens are heavier, 
the path steeper and rougher, the thorns sharper, 
if thus fuller, larger manhood is reached. 

Look at the lesson in another light. We should 
not permit ourselves to remain entangled in the 
experiences that are past. Some people do. 
They never get entirely out of the meshes of the 
sins into which they have fallen. They never 
come up out of their sorows. They never rise 
altogether from the dust of their defeats. I be- 
lieve one reason God gives us time in little sec- 



The Old and The New ii 

tions — in little short days — is that we may finish 
up each day's duties and tasks, its struggles and 
sorrows, and then leave all behind forever. Night 
is meant to cut off completely yesterday's life. 
Suppose you did fail yesterday, — that has nothing 
to do with to-day, except to make you all the 
braver and stronger. Suppose you had a sorrow 
yesterday, one very dear, on whom you leaned 
your whole weight, being taken from your side; 
do not let the sorrow quench the light of your 
path to-day. We are to forget the things that 
are behind. We cannot forget love. We cannot 
but miss the companionship. But our own life 
need not be hurt by the grief, for our journey is 
not yet finished. Besides, God is a Comforter; 
he is able to make the love all the sweeter, and to 
send light into our darkness. 

"Old sorrows that sat at the heart's sealed gate 

Like sentinels grim and sad, 
While out in the night damp, weary and late, 
The King, with a gift divinely great, 

Waited to make me glad: 

"Old fears that hung like a changing cloud 
Over a sunless day: 
Old burdens that kept the spirit bowed, 
Old wrongs that rankled and clamored loud — 
They have passed like a dream away. 



12 The Old and The New 

"In the world without and the world within, 

He maketh all things new; 
The touch of sorrow, the stain of sin, 
Have fled from the gate where the King came in 

From the chill night's damp and dew. 

"Anew in the heavens the sweet stars shine ; 
On earth new blossoms spring; 
The old life lost in the life divine; 
'Thy will be mine, my will is thine,' 
To the new song our hearts now sing." 

The old year will soon be done. Let us break 
ourselves away from all its entanglements. Let 
us carry none of its burdens through the gate of 
the new year. "If you are feeling the sting of 
past defeat, let it quicken your steps, and let 
every failure and disappointment of the old year 
stimulate you to greater effort in the future.'' If 
you have failed and stumbled this year, making a 
sad story of your living, well, confess it all with 
penitence. You cannot change it now. Though 
you should weep for years, you cannot make one 
of this year's crooked lines straight. Why then 
waste a moment in unavailing tears? The peni- 
tence that avails is that which puts its sorrow 
into holy living for the future. The only true 
way to repent for yesterday's evil ways is to make 
to-day a white, clean day. 



The Old and The New 13 

Perhaps some of us are grieving over a year of 
idleness, of indolence. At least we have not lived 
up to our privileges. We have not done our best 
work in school. We have dawdled over our 
lessons. We could have done far better. Of 
course, we cannot change anything now. But 
we can learn a lesson from our trifling — we can 
save ourselves from such shame and humiliation 
another year as we feel to-day. Or we have 
fallen below our possibilities in other ways — in 
business, in home life, in friendship, in our self- 
improvement. We have wasted time — minutes, 
hours, days. We have been content with a low 
standard of excellence. We have left undone 
the things we ought to have done. We see many 
blanks in the story of the year — duties not at- 
tempted, ministries of love not performed. Oh, 
if we could only go back to the beginning of this 
year of our Lord and live it over again, how much 
more beautiful year we would make it than the 
year whose volume will be closed up in three days 
more! If we could only go back with the wis- 
dom we now have, how well we would live the 
year! This we cannot do, but we can .make our 
new year better if we will. But will we? That is 
the question. Will we use our new wisdom in 
the only way we can use it? 



i4 The Old and The New 

But not only past follies and mistakes and 
failures and sins must we leave behind, but past 
successes as well. St Paul is not speaking of 
sins when he uses the words of my text, but of 
attainments. He is pressing toward a goal — 
perfection. He says he has not yet attained, is 
not yet perfect, but he is pressing on that he may 
at length reach the goal. 

Think a moment of Paul's splendid career. 
How far above ordinary Christians he had 
climbed! What consecration was his! What 
self forgetfulness! How he trod the world under 
his feet! How he rose above all jealousy, envy, 
love of ease, desire for honor, longing for ap- 
plause! How such a life as Paul's shames our 
poor Christian living! Yet notice, he says he 
has not yet attained the mark, is not yet perfect. 
He saw measureless heights above those to 
which he had climbed. How far, then, have you 
and I still to go? Yet some of us seem almost 
content with our attainments. We think we have 
done quite well this year. We think we have 
given a good deal of money — how much have 
we given? We think we have been rather re- 
spectable Christians — have we been? How does 
our record appear to the eye of Christ? What 
sacrifices have we made? What lives have we 



The Old and The New 15 

led to Christ? Satisfaction with our attainments 
as Christians is a mark of death. "Blessed are 
they that hunger and thirst after righteousness: 
for they shall be filled." 

Suppose you have done well this year, follow- 
ing Christ closely, doing worthy service in his 
church, fulfilling the law of love — you are to 
leave all that behind, forget it all. It is not to be 
your standard for the n* w year. No matter how 
good yesterday was, to-day must be better. See 
this old apostle far up the mountain yonder, yet 
crying back to us, "I have not yet attained, I 
am not yet perfect: but this one thing I do: 
Forgetting the things which are behind, I press 
on toward the goal." That must always be the 
attitude of living faith. Only dead men are 
satisfied : living men are always climbing higher. 
We used to sing an old song: 

"If at first you don't succeed, 
Try, try, try again." 

A better way to sing the song, however is this: 

"If at first you do succeed, 
Try, try, try again." 

The men and women who are nearest to Christ 
to-day are those who are pressing the most earn- 
estly after him, singing from their hearts most 
yearningly : — 



16 The Old and The New 

"Nearer, my God, to thee, 
Nearer to thee." 

Shall we not all strive to attain better things? 
Let us leave the record of this year far behind 
us as we enter the new year. 

"Let me but live my life from year to year, 
With forward face and unreluctant soul, 

Not hastening to nor turning from the goal; 
Nor mourning things that disappear 
In the dim past, nor holding back in fear 

From what the future veils ; but with a whole 

And happy heart that pays its toll 
To youth and age, and travels on with cheer: 

"So let the way wind up the hill or down, 

Through rough or smooth; the journey will be joy. 
Still seeking what I sought when but a boy, — 
New friendship, high adventure, and a crown, 
I shall grow old, but never lose life's zest, 
Because the road's last turn will be the best." 

"Forgetting the* things which are behind." 
Let us keep our eyes forward. When we leave 
this old year let us not look back upon it with 
regret. Whatever its story, it has led us another 
year nearer home. If it has been wasted, not 
lived well, if we are ashamed to have the volume 
go to God as it is, let us take the wisdom into 
our life and apply it to the year we soon shall 
enter.*" If we have lived it obediently, earnestly, 



The Old and The New 17 

faithfully, then let us make the new year better 
still, more worthy yet. 

Let me speak another word of comfort, before 
we go away, to those whose hearts are sad to- 
day with memories of loss. Are you looking 
backward to see your loved ones, as if they were 
lingering in the shadows? They are not behind 
you. Do not think that in leaving this old year 
you are going farther away from your sainted 
ones. This is the year they left you — it is sacred, 
therefore, and will ever be remembered as the 
year they vanished from your sight. But they, 
the beloved ones, are not behind; they are on 
before. If you would get to where they are, to 
see them again, you must forget the things which 
are behind and press on toward the goal. They 
have reached the goal, and are waiting there for 
you. 

"Forgetting the things which are behind." 
Need I remind you that only those who are in 
Christ can forget the past and look forward with 
confidence and hope? "I press on toward the 
goal." Are you moving at all toward the goal? 
Are you in Christ? If not, where will you come 
at last, if you press on? On this last Sunday of 
the year should not everyone of us make sure 
that we are believing in Christ? 

9— The Old and The New. 



The Religion for the New Year 



Whosoever shall compel thee to go one mile, go with 
him two. — Matt. 5:41. 



THIS may seem a rather unusual New Year's 
text, but I have a purpose in choosing it. 
New Year is a time for a new start. Let 
the curtain drop on the old year. Forget the 
things that are behind. Some things were not 
satisfactory — let them go. Some things vexed 
and annoyed you — forget them. Some people 
wronged you and hurt your feelings — never mind 
it. Forget all personal hurts, as the water for- 
gets the cleaving of the keel that plows through it 
and becomes smooth again. The problem of liv- 
ing is not to have everything just our way, 
pleasant, agreeable, easy — which is not possible 
— but not to be hurt, not to have our lives 
harmed in any way by the rude, hard and trying 
experiences of life. Let the curtain drop on the 
old year and begin anew with all things new in 
the new year. 

18 



The Old and The New 19 

"Let the old life be covered by the new, 
The old, old past, so full of sad mistakes; 
Let it be wholly hidden from our view 
By deeds as white and silent as snowflakes." 

The new should be better than the old. No 
year is good enough to be a standard for the next. 
However well you lived last year, you must live 
better this year. The voice of God calls every- 
one of us to make 1903 the best year we have 
ever lived. 

There is something else in my heart for you, 
and that is why I have chosen this text. "Who- 
soever shall compel thee to go one mile, go with 
him two." That is, do more than you are ex- 
pected to do, be better than you are expected 
to be, go further in love and service and 
self-denial than you are expected to go. The 
immediate reference is to the old, hard days when 
most men had to serve despotic masters and often 
do compulsory service. Able-bodied men, for 
example, would be required to go with soldiers 
to guide them through the country and carry 
their burdens. "If such forced service is de- 
manded of you," said Jesus, "do not resist; go 
cheerfully; go even further than you are com- 
pelled to go." 

Of course, this was only an illustration of a 



20 The Old and The New 

principle. The Christian is to accept hardness 
patiently. He is not to watch the clock lest he 
may work a few minutes too long. He is not to 
keep account of all the things he does for others, 
lest he may do more than he is required to do. 
Rather when he is serving he is to do more than 
strict duty demands. He is to go two miles 
instead of one. 

You remember how Jesus disliked the religion 
of the scribes and Pharisees. They were very 
strict, but they carefully measured all their devo- 
tion and duty. Jesus said to his disciples, 
"Except your righteousness exceed the right- 
eousness of the scribes and Pharisees, ye cannot 
enter into the kingdom of heaven." He made 
this more plain by illustration. For example, 
"Ye have heard that it was said to them of old 
time, Thou shalt not kill, . . . but I say unto 
you, that every one who is angry with his brother 
shall be in danger of the judgment." We are 
Christ's followers, not only when we do no 
murder — that is going one mile — but when we 
keep our hearts free from all bitterness, all unkind 
feelings, all desire for revenge — that is going the 
second mile. We please Christ, not merely 
when we do no impure and immoral acts, but 
when no unholy thoughts and no unclean desires 



The Old and The New 21 

are allowed to build their nests in our bosoms. 
The religion of the Pharisees said they must love 
their friends but hate their enemies, giving as 
they had received; but the friends of Jesus must 
go the second mile, and love their enemies and 
pray for those who persecute them. "What do 
ye more than others ?" is the question which tests 
Christian life. Anybody can love those that love 
him. Anybody can be kind to those who are 
kind to him. You must do more — you must go 
two miles. 

We are too apt to make our religion a matter 
of rules, and to be careful never to go farther 
than the rule requires. If it is a mile that is 
required we go the mile, but not a step beyond. 
The religion of Christ is second-mile religion — 
it is what we do over and above what we are ex- 
pected to do, what might be demanded of us. 
That is what we want to take as our New Year's 
plan of living and serving. 

You know I never complain. I would never 
be a discourager of the humblest or feeblest of 
God's children. I know life is hard for many 
people, very hard for some. I would always be 
an encourager, an inspirer. But a wise man has 
said that our best friend is he who makes us do 
our best. I am one of your best friends, there- 



22 The Old and The New 

fore, when I come to you calling for your best— 
your best life, your best work, your largest use- 
fulness, your most Christlike loving. 

For one thing, I call for your best work in the 
church. How many of us did our best last year? 
Who of us cannot be more earnest, more intense, 
more diligent? Jesus lived so that his disciples 
remembered it was written of him, "The zeal of 
thine house hath eaten me up." Are our lives a 
commentary on such Scriptures? Do we live and 
work so devotedly, so self-denyingly, with such 
consuming ardor that people apply such texts to 
us, saying that our zeal for God eats us up? St. 
Paul has many words calling believers to be 
always abounding in the work of the Lord. 
Sometimes we hear it said of a man that he over- 
works. Does anybody say of you that you over- 
work as a Christian, that you are wearing your- 
self out in Christ's service? 

There is a very suggestive story told of Elisha 
when he lay on his death-bed. Joash the king 
came to see the old minister, and wept that he 
was to lose his good friend's guidance and help. 
Elisha told the king to take his bow and arrows. 
Then he put his hands on the king's hands and 
bade the king open the window and shoot. "The 
arrow of the Lord's deliverance, the arrow of 

IL.ofC. 



The Old and The New 23 

victory over Syria," said the prophet. He then 
further bade the king take his arrows and smite 
on the ground. The king smote three times and 
then stopped. Then Elisha was wroth. "Thou 
shouldest have smitten five or six times: then 
hadst thou smitten Syria till thou hadst con- 
sumed it, whereas now thou shalt smite Syria but 
thrice." The king's lack of energy and persist- 
ence in smiting revealed the character of the man 
— he lacked energy. He did his work languidly. 
There is too much of the same lack in Christian 
workers. They tire too easily. They desist too 
soon. They smite but three times. "Thou 
shouldest have smitten five or six times." That is 
the word for us as we enter upon another year's 
conquest for our Master, another year of soul- 
gathering. 

"The time is short, 

If thou wouldst work for God, it must be now; 

If thou wouldst win the garland for thy brow, 
Redeem the time. 

"Shake off earth's sloth! 
Go forth with staff in hand while yet 'tis day ; 
Set out with girded loins upon thy way; 
Up, linger not. 

"Fold not thy hands! 
What has the pilgrim of the cross and crown 
To do with luxury or couch of down? 
On, pilgrim, on." 



24 The Old and The New 

But what is Christian work? What is the 
work of the Lord to which we are so earnestly 
called? Preaching? Yes, but not all can be 
preachers. Teaching in the Sunday schools? 
Yes, but only a limited number can find a place 
in the ranks of teachers. Missionaries? Yes, 
but only a few Christians can go to heathen lands 
to carry Christ, or to the mission fields at home. 
What can the great company, the countless hosts, 
of the Master's disciples do? 

First of all, they can preach in holy lives. This 
is always the first essential in preaching, in win- 
ning souls. If you are not good, if your life 
is not beautiful, what you say will have little 
effect. Naomi never would have won Ruth for 
her God if her own life had not been rich in its 
loveliness. We must hold forth Jesus Christ in 
our own disposition, conduct, and character 
before we can work for him in any other way. 

But that is not all. Being good is not enough. 
There is work to do. The precious seed must 
be sown. The Master's errands must be done. 
Evermore God is calling, "Whom shall I send 
here and there? Who will go for me? St. 
Paul's church is not a happy Christian family, 
merely, living here for the comfort and pleasure 
and good of its own members. It is a happy 
family, and it is good for us to dwell together in 



The Old and The New 25 

unity. It is our church home, which we love and 
in which we find rich blessing. But we dare not 
stop with this. If we do, our sweetness will soon 
become sourness. If we live Only for ourselves 
we will die. We have a mission to the world 
close about us and the world farther out from us. 
We must take up the Master's work. What is it? 
It is the same kind of work Jesus himself did — 
a ministry of kindness, a witness for God. We 
must tell others of God's love. We must get 
people to fall in love with Jesus Christ. 

"To every one his work." It may not be 
easy. It was not easy for Christ to come to this 
world and do the work he did for men. It was 
not easy for Paul to be a great missionary. Do 
you suppose it is easy for anyone to do work 
worth while in blessing others? It is because we 
want something easy that we are of so little use 
to God. We are willing to go only one mile. 
To-day our Master is calling us to take the 
second mile. 

Some of us will not find it easy to stand at the 
judgment-seat of Christ and give account of our 
work. Easy work here will make it hard there. 
Are you not ready, friends of the Master, for 
harder work this year than you ever have done 
before? Are you not ready for a year of second- 



26. The Old and The New 

mile journeys to do God's errands, to carry bless- 
ings to others? Instead of putting on your 
slippers and dressing gowns for snug evenings at 
home, or your evening dress for brilliant func- 
tions in amusements, will you not give Christ at 
least some of your evenings for the service to 
which he calls you? It will not injure your 
health — never fear that. I will pay the doctor's 
bills if it does. It will not unfit you for business 
next day — no danger of that. Try it. Instead 
of your poor little measured mile for Christ, go 
two miles. 

Let us apply the same principle to our per- 
sonal religious life. A good many people want 
to go only one mile in consecration, in praying, 
in church attendance, in loving others, in doing 
God's will. But I say to you that one-mile fol- 
lowing of Christ is pitifully, shamefully inade- 
quate. 

What kind of a friend do you like — one who 
will go just the easy one mile with you, while the 
path is flowery, and the air full of sweet odors, 
and then drop off when the road gets rough and 
steep, and winter winds begin to blow? Or, do 
you like the friend who stays by you when it costs 
to be your friend, when he has to carry burdens 
for you — has almost to carry you, sometimes? 



The Old and The New 27 

Do you like best the friend who goes only one 
short, easy mile with you and then drops off, or 
the friend who goes the second mile with you? 
Was Orpah or Ruth the better friend to Naomi? 

Now what kind of friends do you suppose 
Jesus Christ prefers to have — those who go with 
him a little way, while it is easy, and then drop 
out when the pinch comes, or those who go with 
him through pain and tears and cost? those who 
go one mile, or those who go two? Some Chris- 
tian people have never learned the deep joy of the 
Christian life because they have never gone be- 
neath the surface in loving Christ, and in con- 
secration to him. Our religion is easy-going. 
We think we are fulfilling our duty if we come to 
church once a Sunday, when the weather is clear 
and beautiful, if we give a few cents a week to 
church support, if we kneel morning and evening 
and say our prayers. Yet these are only one- 
mile excursions in religion, and the blessing does 
not lie at the end of the little conventional mile — 
it lies on further, at the end of the second mile. 
Those who think not -of their own ease, but de- 
vote the whole day to God's worship, are the ones 
who enter into the secret place of the Most High, 
and get the true blessing of the Sabbath. 

The goodness Christ calls for is not merely the 



28 The Old and The New 

goodness which passes for respectability. It is 
said of a certain royal personage who always at- 
tended church, that when the commandments 
were read — "Thou shalt not kill"; "Thou shalt 
not commit adultery"; "Thou shalt not steal"; he 
would respond audibly after each, "I never did 
that," and go away thinking himself a very good 
man. Yet if you read the Sermon on the Mount 
you will find that such pharisaism came in for 
our Lord's most scathing condemnation. It is 
only going one mile — common decency requires 
as much of us as that. We begin to enter into 
the kind of goodness Jesus requires — only when 
we obey the commandments in our hearts. 

Only the second mile in loving others counts. 
On this first Sunday of the New Year we should 
look well to that quality of Christian life which 
Jesus himself said is the unfailing hallmark of 
discipleship. "By this shall all men know that ye 
are my disciples, if ye have love one to another." 
The measure of this love is given in the same 
paragraph — "even as I have loved you, that ye 
also love one another." "As I have loved you" — 
that is the second mile in loving each other. The 
first mile is loving nice, agreeable, congenial 
people, in a conventional sort of way, so long as 
they love you, and flatter you, and pamper your 



The Old and The New 29 

vanity. One-mile loving asks, "How often must 
I forgive my fellow-Christian, when he has been 
unkind to me? How often must I forgive? 
Three times? Seven times ?" But second-mile 
loving never asks any such questions. It is 
patient, forbearing, forgiving seventy-times 
seven, unto the uttermost, "As I have loved 
you" means nothing less than that. It keeps no 
account of how much and how often. 

Let us not forget that where there is no second- 
mile loving there really is no growing Christian 
life. I know we must begin at the a, b, c — this 
loving is a new commandment. Christian love 
is, indeed, a new life — it is the heavenly life 
brought down to earth. We get it into our 
hearts only when we accept Christ and let him 
into our lives. We must begin as a little child. 
We cannot learn the whole lesson in a day. We 
cannot fulfill the meaning of the words, "As I 
have loved you," until we have gone over the 
lesson many times. But that is the lesson we are 
to learn. Think what patience Jesus had with 
his disciples — "As I have loved you." Think 
how he bore with their faults and failings, with 
their dullness and slowness, with their unbelief 
and unfaithfulness, with their denials and be- 
trayals. "As I have loved you, that ye also love 



30 The Old and The New 

one another/' How it shames our touchiness, our 
quick firing up when a brother seems to fail a 
little in courtesy, or speaks a little bitterly to us! 
Was that the way Jesus loved his disciples? Is 
that the way he loves us now? Ah, if it were, we 
never could be saved, we never could learn the 
lesson of loving, and if we never learn to love as 
Jesus loves we cannot enter heaven, for heaven 
is only for those who have learned to love. Shall 
we not set as our standard for this new year this 
love that goes the second mile? 

I shall name only one other point of applica- 
tion — the submitting of our lives to the will and 
the Spirit of God. We say we take Jesus Christ 
as our Lord and Master. We do not begin to be 
Christians until we do. He is, first, our Saviour 
— "If I wash thee not thou hast no part with me." 
Then comes surrender to him. "Follow me." 
Martin Luther's seal was a rose; in the rose a 
heart; in the heart a cross. The rose suggested 
fragrance and beauty — a Christian life should be 
beautiful, winning, attractive. It should be 
sweet, pouring forth the fragrance of love 
wherever it goes. The heart in the rose told 
that all life is from the heart. But at the center 
of all was the cross. Until we have Christ we can 
have neither fragrance nor beauty. We must 



The Old and The New 31 

never forget that nothing but the self-sacrificing 
love of Christ in our hearts can transform our 
lives. But we can have Christ only by yielding 
to him. To resist the Spirit of Christ is to cut 
ourselves off from blessing. 

"Though Christ a thousand times in Bethlehem be 

born, 
If he's not born in thee, thy soul is all forlorn, 
God's spirit falls on me as dewdrops on a rose, 
If I but, like a rose, my heart to him disclose, 
In all eternity no tone can be so sweet 
As when man's heart with God's in unison doth beat. 
Whate'er thou lovest, man, that too become thou 

must — 
God, if thou lovest God; dust, if thou lovest dust." 

Immeasurable indeed are the possibilities of 
Christian life — to be dwelt in by God himself, 
the Holy Spirit; to be transformed into the very 
beauty of God; to have the power of God; the 
love of God in us. "Know ye not that your body 
is a temple of the Holy Spirit, which is in you?" 

But how many of us are conscious of these 
wonderful possibilities? How many of us are 
striving to attain them? We expect to be like 
Christ in heaven, but do we think earnestly about 
being like him now and here? Indeed, how many 
of us would like to become filled with the Spirit 



32 The Old and The New 

to-day and to keep that fullness all the year? If 
we could, would we exchange our poor, meager 
measure of Christlikeness to-day for the com- 
plete filling of our hearts with Christ? It would 
make a tremendous change in our lives, at 
least, in some of our lives. We sometimes sing, 
"Take the world, but give me Jesus" — do we 
mean it? We sing often, "Nearer, my God, to 
thee; even though it be a cross that raiseth me, 
still all my song shall be, Nearer, my God, to 
thee." It is a very sweet hymn, but do we mean 
it? Are we ready to have the prayer answered, 
fully, wholly, whatever it may cost? We go the 
first mile in following Christ, in yielding to the 
Spirit, in letting God into our hearts — yes, but 
are we not ready, this New Year's Sabbath, to go 
the second mile? 

"Spirit of God, descend upon my heart; 

Wean it from earth; through all its pulses move; 
Stoop to my weakness, mighty as thou art, 
And make me love thee as I ought to love. 

"Teach me to love thee as thine angels love, 

One holy passion rilling all my frame; 
The baptism of the heaven-descended Dove, 
My heart an altar, and thy love the flame." 



SEP 26 1903 






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b.!?,H£. RY 0F CONGRESS 







022 168 937 9 



